


Sliding Downhill

by SunlightOnTheWater



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/SunlightOnTheWater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The message started with the sentence, "I've made a terrible mistake." Dean was pretty sure it wasn't going to get any better from there.</p>
<p>Four years ago Dean Winchester left a life of hunting behind to attend Kansas State University in the hope that when it came time for Sam to leave, John would let him go. Now, four years later, he's just about to graduate with his girlfriend Cassie Robinson when a desperate phone call from his father sends him plunging back into the world he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. April 4, 2001

_One_

The little symbol on the bottom of his cell phone screen was tormenting him. Dean knew who the message was from, he had checked his missed calls an hour ago and seen John’s number appear four consecutive times on the list, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to check the message. He had promised himself four years ago when he left his old life behind for college that he wouldn’t look back. He had decided it would be easier for John and Sammy if he didn’t and he had kept that resolution for four long years. Now the past was coming back to haunt him.

Dean made a move to put the phone back down but at the last second found himself dialing voicemail instead. The generic female voice informed him that he had one knew message and then proceeded to take him back through the three old messages from Cassie before allowing him to hear the one he dreaded. His heart pounded at the abrupt silence in the moment before his father spoke.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” John informed his oldest son after a heavy pause. “I sent Sam away on his own hunts, thinking he’d be safe. Then I found the truth. It wants _him_ , Dean. I’m not sure what for but I do know it won’t stop until it gets him. I’m sorry for laying this on your shoulders.” Then there was a click and in the sudden silence the generic female voice informed him that there were no new messages.

Dean sat there, choking on air for a moment, and then felt a wave of sudden rage. He stood, tossing the phone aside, and began pacing the room like a caged animal. He had asked only one thing of his father in all his life, one personal request, and John couldn’t even leave him alone like he’d asked. He growled in frustration, whirling to hit the wall for a moment before calming. Calming because of the desperation.

It had lurked in every second of John’s message, saturated his voice. Dean had only heard that much desperation from his father once before; the night John had told him to take his little brother and run. Now, eighteen years later, he heard the same worry again. The same worry and the hidden words; your brother is in danger. For a moment the walls felt like they were closing in on him. Then he spun jerkily and headed for the bedroom to pack a bag. He had finished his classes early so he had a month before he had to be back for graduation. He could check on Sammy, make sure his little brother was okay, and still be back in plenty of time.

“Dean?” Cassie’s voice came from the doorway and he turned to see his girlfriend of two years standing there. A pretty half African American girl from the small town of Cape Girardeau, Missouri, Cassie was outspoken and opinionated. They had met freshman year in a science lab but hadn’t gotten along until the end of their sophomore year. Now they were practically inseparable. “What are you doing?”

“Packing,” he replied, trying to hide the guilt he felt from making a decision without including Cassie. “I just got a call from my dad and-"

“Whoa, back up,” Cassie demanded, holding up a hand to stop him. “You got a call from your _dad_? I thought you said you told your family you didn’t want to have _any_ contact with them.”

“I did but-" Dean tried again but Cassie was already interrupting him.

“Then why are you packing?”

“Will you just hush up and _listen_?” For a moment there was complete silence after his explosion. Dean had never lost control of his temper before, not around Cassie. He had always kept it firmly in check, reminding himself that he wasn’t _that person_ anymore but now something primal in him was insisting that Sammy was in trouble and he had to get to his little brother now.

“Alright,” Cassie said, softening after a moment. “I’m listening.”

“Yes my dad called after I told him no contact and I was mad until I heard the message,” Dean said, turning away from his packing to look Cassie in the eyes. “My little brother may be in trouble. Dad and Sam separated for a while so Dad doesn’t know where he is.”

“And he thinks you do?” Cassie asked curiously.

“I know Sammy better than he does,” Dean said softly and Cassie nodded once.

"So you're going to find him?" Cassie asked.

"I'm going to find him," Dean confirmed. "And then I'll be back in time for graduation."

"Promise?" Cassie asked, staring at him with her intense brown eyes.

"I promise," Dean replied and Cassie crossed the room to kiss him.

"Stay safe," she said softly, giving him one last lingering look before shouldering the purse that had previously been dangling from her arm and heading for the door.

"You too," he called after her and she turned back to giving him a brilliant smile before she vanished from sight. Dean continued looking in the direction she'd gone until he heard the door shut and then turned back to his packing. He was finished just ten minutes after he had started. His stomach sank at that thought as he snatched the keys to the Impala off the bedside table. All his life he'd been packing things into bags and now he was doing it again, already heading back into that pattern. Still he couldn't bring himself to hate that decision. Sam might need him. Dean locked the apartment behind him and headed for the garage.

The Impala started off right away and Dean hesitated , wondering where exactly he was going. It had been four years and despite their dad's hope Dean wasn't sure he knew his little brother all that well anymore. "Where would I go then?" he muttered, drumming on the steering wheel as he thought. Then it dawned on him; _Bobby_. Bobby Singer was a second father to the boys, the one that Sam got along with much better than his own. And even if Bobby didn't know where Sam was he might have some idea where to find him. Dean pulled out of the garage and turned on to the road that would lead him to Bobby and, hopefully, Sam.


	2. April 5, 2001

_Two_

When he heard the rumble of an approaching engine Bobby Singer slid out from underneath the truck he was currently working on and grabbed his shotgun. Sam Winchester was sleeping in one of the upstairs bedrooms in his house, recovering from a hard hunt, but had reassured Bobby that he hadn't brought trouble back. If the kid was wrong Bobby was going to fill him so full of rock salt that when he died his corpse would be perfectly preserved a hundred years later. He watched warily as the smooth black Chevy Impala cruised to a stop in front of the salvage yard. Bobby didn't get too many visitors that weren't hunters around his neck of the woods and he knew what vehicles the hunters that considered him a contact drove. Sam's truck, the beat up Dodge Bobby was currently working on, wasn't all that uncommon in the hunter world. The Impala was.

Bobby readied his gun as the door swung open and a figure stepped out. The young man was tall, though not as tall as Sam, with brown-blonde hair and a leather jacket. He took a couple steps forward and Bobby relaxed when he recognized the all too familiar swagger. "It's been a while," he called and Dean Winchester flashed him one of those million dollar grins.

"Yeah. It has."

"How's college?"

"Good, good," Dean said absently. "My girl and I graduate in a month."

"So," Bobby said, finally reaching the subject he didn't understand. "Why are you here?"

For a moment there was nothing but silence as Dean stared absently at a point behind Bobby's head. Then the older Winchester boy sighed. "Dad called."

"John called you?" Bobby could hear the shock plain as day in his voice. John had been a wreck after his eldest son left for college and Sam had retreated behind a stone wall. Still both had kept their promise and hadn't called Dean. Now that fact that John would break his vow four years later worried Bobby.

"Yeah," Dean admitted tiredly. "Look Bobby, is Sam here?"

"Yeah," Bobby admitted gruffly. "He's sleeping upstairs. Just came in from a nasty hunt 'bout four hours ago." Dean nodded, swaying lightly on his feet. "How long's it been since you've slept."

"Don't know," Dean admitted. "How long's it take to get here from Kansas State?"

"Six hours," Bobby replied, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "Go get some sleep you idjit." Dean managed an exhausted smile and headed for the house. Bobby shook his head as the door slammed behind the older Winchester brother and then turned to Rumsfield, his dog. "Those boys are gonna be the death of me," he muttered. Rumsfield looked up for a moment, wagging his tail once before dropping his head back on the ground. Bobby sighed and turned back to Sam's truck.

Two hours later Bobby was still working on the truck. The front door to his house shut softly and Bobby turned to see Sam standing in the doorway staring at the Impala. "We have company?" he called.

"Yeah," Bobby said, turning back to the engine that sometimes cut out on Sam for now apparent reason. "Dean." He glanced up just a little and caught a glimpse of guilt and hope crossing Sam's face before the younger Winchester brother tucked it away.

"What happened that sent him here?" The question was supposed to sound uninterested but Bobby could hear the desperate hope in Sam's voice. Unfortunately he didn't have an answer.

"Don't know," he replied gruffly. "Sent him to bed 'cause he looked beat. Only words that came out of his mouth were asking where you were and telling me that John called." _And that he has a girlfriend and will be graduating in a month._ Bobby didn't finish the sentence out loud. He'd let Sam and Dean sort that out. Besides Sam's head had snapped up when he mentioned John.

"Dad called him?"

"That's what he said," Bobby replied. "Don't make me repeat myself boy." Sam shrugged and sank down on the bottom step. Rumsfield stood with a groan and made his way over to Sam, tail wagging the entire way. Sam scratched the hound almost absently behind the ears until Rumsfield let out a contented sigh and sank down on the ground at Sam's feet.

"Why would dad call _him_?" Sam asked and Bobby could hear something that was almost hurt in the younger man's voice. Everyone knew that John Winchester didn't get on so well with his younger son but they also knew that in the last four years John and Sam's relationship had gone from explosive to tolerable. After Dean left for Kansas State the pair had been forced to learn how to work together until eventually the arguments went from an every day thing to an every couple day event. No one had been more relieved than Bobby when the transition was fully made and John stopped showing up after every hunt to drop off his coldly furious son and give them both a chance to cool down. In the past two years though John had stopped hunting with Sam. The pair had split up, though thankfully not over and argument, and Sam had started hunting by himself or with Joshua or Caleb. There had been in brief break in their separation when John had called Sam for help.

When the call had come a year and a half ago Sam had finished up his hunt with Joshua and then headed for a small Connecticut college town, only pausing to stop and let Bobby know where he was headed in case they needed backup. The case had been a demon possession that had taken Sam and John a month to clean up. Then John had split town but Sam had stuck around because he was dating a pretty blonde girl named Jessica Moore. Sam still helped with hunts, coming whenever Caleb or Joshua needed extra help, and did a lot of research for the group but he also spent a lot of time being a normal high school senior and dating Jessica. Then, about three months into the relationship, disaster struck.

It all started with Joshua called Sam saying he had a nearby hunt that he needed extra help with. Sam had agreed to come and told Jess he would be back in a couple days. Then he'd gone with Joshua to hunt down a werewolf that had been killing people in small town not far from where Sam was staying. They had finished up a day early and Sam had gone back to surprise Jessica. Nobody answered when he knocked on the door and Jess wouldn't answer her cell phone or the house phone. Normally Sam would have left that alone but it was only nine at night and Jessica's bedroom light was on. He called her parents, asking if Jess was all right. They said she was and asked him what was wrong. Sam did his best to articulate his vague fears and Jess's mother reassured him that Jess was probably still sleeping. Probably sensing that Sam was still worried about his girlfriend, Mrs. Moore told Sam where the spare key to the house was so Sam could go in and check on Jess. Sam had found Jess pinned to the ceiling above her bed bleeding from her stomach. He'd only had a minute to glance up into her blank face before she, and her ceiling, vanished in a cloud of fire.

The fire department was ten minutes from Jessica Moore's house but the next door neighbor was a volunteer fireman who told his wife to call the fire department and then ran into the Moore house to drag Sam from the flames. For months after his girlfriend's funeral Sam became a shadow, working cases with a cold sense of vengeance. He had called John several times, sure that whatever had killed Jessica was the same thing that had killed his mother, but got no answer. Then, six months ago, Ellen Harvelle had called saying she had a case that she couldn't work. Bobby had volunteered Sam who had gone to the Harvelle Roadhouse without complaint. He had been gone for two months and returned with headstrong Jo Harvelle.

Joanna, or Jo as she preferred to be called, was about as far from Jess as Sam could get. Sure she had blonde hair, a shortened version of her name, and a name that started with a J but that was where the similarities ended. Jo knew about the dangers of hunting and while Jess had wanting a meaningful and lasting relationship Jo didn't want anything but a friend and partner in crime. The two spent the next month working on cases with Joshua, Caleb, and Bobby. Bobby had watched with relief as the light slowly began to filter back in Sam's eyes, even if it wasn't as bright as before. Three months ago Sam had kissed Jo for the first time, something that Ellen almost shot him for before she realized who was kissing her daughter, and two months ago Sam and Jo had partnered up for Jo's first hunt. Now they hunted together on and off and called each other every couple nights. The relationship wasn't what Sam had experienced with Jess but it was something and Bobby was mostly relieved that Sam wasn't moping around anymore.

Now, looking at a downcast and confused Sam, Bobby wished he had all the answers. Instead all he could do was shrug and say, "You'll have to ask him." Sam sighed heavily but nodded as if he hadn't expected anything more. Bobby sighed too, silently, and went back to working on Sam's truck.


	3. April 5, 2001 Part 2

_Three_

Dean finally managed to pull himself out of bed at sunset. Being up an entire day working and then driving six hours straight at night, only stopping for a couple hours sleep at a rest stop, had worn on him. He had slept almost like a rock, the only disturbances vague images of Cassie and Sam in trouble. Now in the dusky evening light he made his way downstairs. He could hear quiet speaking and when he entered the kitchen he saw Bobby and Sam sitting at the table chatting quietly about something. Sam had grown since Dean had last seen him and he had a feeling he'd have to look up to really see his little brother. Sam glanced over when Dean entered the room, looking tired and worn thin. "Hey," Dean said and his little brother graced him with a nod.

"Bobby said you told him dad called."

"Yeah," Dean said, feeling almost awkward about the scrutiny he was getting from his younger brother.

"Well whatever it is I'm sure I can take care of it myself," Sam said with a horribly false smile. "So you can just go back to college and next time I hear from dad I'll tell him to stop freaking out about every little thing."

"No," Dean said flatly. "I can't. He said you were in danger."

" _What_?" Sam's voice rose almost a full octave, filled with indignation and confusion.

"He said that he thought sending you away would keep you safe but whatever he's after is really after you."

"He didn't send me away," Sam protested. "We agreed we'd cover more ground if we split up for a bit."

"Sam," Bobby cut in gently. "You know John would say whatever he had to in order to keep you and your brother safe." Sam nodded, visibly wilting from his tense position.

"Sammy," Dean began and then had to hide a flinch when he saw the lock his younger brother shot him. 

" _It's Sam_."

"Sam," Dean amended impatiently. "What was dad hunting?"

"Whatever killed mom," Sam admitted, glancing down at the table.

"And you don't know where he is?"

" _No_ ," Sam snapped. "If I did do you think I'd be sitting here chatting with you like we're a couple of old women instead of tracking him down and getting this mess sorted out so you can get out of here and back to _college_." Sam spat out the last word like it was poison and this time Dean did visibly flinch.

"Sammy-" he began to plead but his brother stood, cutting him off sharply.

"I told you, it's _Sam_!"

"Minnesota," Bobby cut in sharply.

"Huh?" Dean managed to get out, Sam making a similar sound of disbelief as they both turned to stare at Bobby.

"John calls me before he moves to a new location, just in case he gets in trouble," Bobby said. "Right now he's in Ashford, Minnesota. It's a four hour drive from here so if you're gonna leave tonight you'll want to get moving."

"He _calls_ you?" Sam asked, voice full of shock.

"To check in and check on you," Bobby said with a shrug before his voice turned gruff. "Now git."

"Is my truck working?" Sam asked, obviously turning to a more important subject.

"No," Bobby replied. "I'm still working on it. But Dean has a car. You can switch the weapons over to it for the time being."

"Fine," Sam sighed, turning and stomping back upstairs to pack.

"You better get your stuff too," Bobby told Dean. "Because Sam won't wait for you." Dean nodded and reluctantly headed up the stairs with the vague feeling that Sam didn't want to be anywhere near him. The feeling had solidified by the time the brothers finally got the weapons arranged in Dean's trunk and he was driving toward Ashford, Minnesota. Sam had been mostly silent and completely sullen for the entire ride there and the silence was beginning to get on his nerves. Dean turned on the tape player, cranking up the music as Metallica blared through the car's interior. Sam reached a hand out to silence the music and Dean reacted automatically, smacking Sam's hand away lightly. 

"Dean," Sam ground out and Dean reacted out of habit.

"It's the rules Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." For the first time since Dean had arrived at Bobby's to speak to his brother Sam didn't protest the old nickname. Instead he just shot Dean an all to familiar disgruntled and slightly annoyed look and then turned back back to the window without touching the radio. Dean smiled slightly at the old routine and drove on into the night.


	4. April 6,2001

_Four_

Cassie Robinson was normally a very self-reliant young woman. Since her father had died when she was eight, Cassie had helped hold what was left of her family together. Going to college had been hard. She'd spent every spare moment wondering if she'd left her fragile mother for a good cause, if her mother would be okay, if she'd get a call in a few hours that something had gone dreadfully wrong. All the stress had made her anger prone and caused some of her more infamous freshman year bouts with Dean Winchester. It had eventually reached the point at the end of their first semester that people began backing away when any sign of an argument between the two showed up. Now, after dating for close to three full years, they understood each other better. Cassie had even begun to allow herself to depend on Dean. Maybe that was why his sudden absence left her restless.

They'd been dating a year when Dean finally had caved and told her about his family. At first he'd painted them in broad strokes, his expression both proud and pained when he talked about his brother Sam and just plain tired when he spoke of his father. His mother was an issue that wasn't to be touched. Their second year together, during Christmas, Cassie had made the mistake of asking why his family never called. Dean had snapped then. Cassie had realized, looking into suddenly dark and anguished eyes, that in those days of petty freshman arguments she had never truly seen Dean _angry_ and she was glad. "Because I told 'em not to, okay?" he had yelled at her before storming out of their brand new shared apartment, slamming the door behind him.

After Dean had left Cassie had sank down on the couch and cried, not over Dean snapping at her but because of the pure anguish she'd seen. After that they hadn't really talked about his family again. That was why Cassie had been more than a little startled when Dean announced that he was running off to who knows where because his father had broken a promise and _called_ after four long years. She hadn't protested much though because when Dean had snapped at her again she'd seen the anguish once more and been unable to find a counterargument for it. Now she was pacing, alone and worried between classes, in their apartment. 

Every time she heard footsteps her head would snap around and she would wait with breathless anticipation until she was disappointed when it wasn't Dean. Finally, growling with frustration, she pulled out her cell phone and punched the button that brought Dean's number up on speed dial. She hesitated for a moment before hitting the call button roughly with her thumb and bringing the phone up to her ear. She listen as if rang once, twice, three times, and then another three before she was directed to Dean's voicemail. "Hey, this is Dean," his recording said, causal and unhurried. "I can't get to the phone right this instant but leave me a message and I'll call back ASAP." Once she heard the beep Cassie took a deep breath, mind racing frantically to come up with what to say, and almost unbidden words came tumbling out.

"Hey Dean, this is Cassie," she said, her voice strangely cheerful despite the wave of unease that had clenched her stomach muscles when he hadn't answered. Ever since she had started dating him, Cassie had never known Dean to have his phone off. Even in movie theaters he simply turned it down to vibrate, checking who was calling before deciding whether or not to leave and answer the phone. The fact that he wasn't answering now, after he'd only ever missed two of her calls since she'd known him, worried her. "I'm just missing you here," she continued, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "Call me back as soon as you can. Love you. Bye." Then she hung up before she could do something stupid like cry or beg him to come back.

"Cassie?" someone pounded twice on her door, making her jump and silently curse her distracted mind. Ordinarily Dean was the only one who could sneak up on her and the distinctly feminine voice told her that her visitor was obviously not Dean.

"Yeah?" she called back questioningly.

"You have a visitor." Cassie relaxed, recognizing the voice as that of her land lady, and headed for the door.

"Who is it?" she asked curiously when she opened the door. Her land lady, Ida Welling, shrugged.

"No idea," she said briskly, her hands fluttering with irritation. "He didn't introduce himself; just said he needed to see you."

" _He_?" Cassie asked and received another shrug. She followed Ida curiously down the stairs and then froze. The middle aged man sitting in the downstairs area was clearly a plainclothes police officer. Before Dean, Cassie would have never known but Dean had been able to point one out at fifty paces without error. "Can I help you?" she asked warily, stepping around her land lady to face the man.

"Perhaps," the man said. "Why don't you sit down?" Cassie glanced at the clock, reassuring herself that she still had an hour before her next class, ample time for a short discussion with this man. She sat as Ida bustled out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. "I'm here to ask you about your boyfriend," the man said.

"Dean?" Cassie asked, startled. What did this man want to know about Dean? As far as she knew her boyfriend had never been arrested.

"Yes," the man replied. "Dean Winchester."

"Is he in trouble?" Cassie asked, all her worry over Dean not answering his phone suddenly rushing over her.

"No, no," the man replied, quick to reassure her. "Nothing like that. It's about his father. What do you know about him?"

"John?" Cassie asked, her brain already searching for information about the man as the officer across from her gave an affirmation nod. "Not much, really. Dean doesn't talk about his family much. He just said that his father was a former Marine and that they traveled around a lot after their mother died. I'm sorry I can't be more help."

"It's fine," the man reassured her, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a card. "Here. This has my mobile number on it in case you think of anything else. I'd also appreciate you giving me a call when Dean shows up."

"No problem," Cassie replied, taking the card from him with a pensive smile. The man nodded, tipping his old fashioned bowler hat at her before standing and heading for the door. It was only after he left that Cassie realized he'd given her no name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens...
> 
> My apologies for not posting this sooner. And for it not including the boys on their quest for John. But never fear-they'll be back next chapter along with an explanation of why Dean didn't answer his cell phone.


	5. April 6, 2001 Part 2

_Five_

He'd used to be able to read Sam's expressions like he could his own. No, pulled over on the side of the road just outside Ashford, Minnesota Dean wasn't sure that was true anymore. When they were younger Sam had always been an open book, whatever he was feeling pasted on to his face. It hadn't always made him a great liar but having his emotions so close to the surface had made him far more compassionate than John or Dean had ever had the energy to be. Now, staring at the town, Sam's face was as unreadable as stone. Not for the first time since he'd started the drive to Ashford, Dean wondered if he really knew his little brother anymore. The only sign of familiarity he'd seen was the look he'd gotten when he'd said, "Driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole." Past that it had been silence on the four hour drive from Bobby's salvage yard to Ashford. He'd eventually even switched the Metallic tape off because it had felt too loud in the silence he was getting from Sam.

"Where do we start?" he asked finally, breaking Sam's silent vigil of the town. Sam stared at him blankly until he amended his question. "Where would Dad have started?"

"At local hotels. Dad'd try to arrive midafternoon, do some research, and catch some sleep before going after whatever it was he was hunting." Before Dean had left for college Sam had never been able to say where Dad had gone or would be with any amount of certainty. Now Sam replied without any hesitation, as if he knew Dad like the back of his hand. Like he'd used to have known Dean. 

"Right," Dean agreed. "Do you happen to know what name Dad'll be under? I mean you guys are still running credit card scams, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, voice tone suddenly frosty. "We are. Not many ways to get legitimate jobs hunting."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, unsure what else to say without making Sammy frostier. "So name?"

"Ralph Zeiderman," Sam said and then blinked when Dean snorted.

"Really man?" Dean asked and was relieved to see a grin curl on Sam's face.

"That was my reaction too," his younger brother admitted. "That's why Dad would use it. He told me when I laughed that he'd use that name if we ever separated during a hunt and had to meet up a few days later he'd use the name so I'd know what alias to find him under. If he really gave Bobby the place just in case I needed him, he'll have used the name."

"Let's start checking hotels then," Dean said, slipping back into the Impala. Sam didn't move. After a moment he rolled down the passenger window and asked, "You coming?" Sam nodded, face distant, and slid into the car. "Let me know when you see a promising hotel." Sam nodded once and watched the small town slide by. They bypassed the Motel 6 with only Sam's mutter that it was too nice. They pulled over at a local rundown hotel; Ashford Motel. It had probably just about gone under when the Motel 6 was put up and the shabby doors on a single row of rooms all looked like they hadn't seen company for months.

Sam was out of the car the instant Dean parked, as if just being inside it with his older brother was strangling him. Dean tucked the hurt away, back behind the mask he hadn't worn since he'd started dating Cassie, and followed Sam inside. Sam strode up to the front desk like he was on a mission, flashing a wide and definitely fake smile at the man behind the desk. "Can I help you?" the clerk asked politely, looking surprised that two people were gracing his office at any time of day.

"I'm David Zeiderman and this is my older brother Peter," Sam introduced smoothly. "Our dad's birthday is today and he's been away on a business trip for close to a month. He said he was staying here so Peter and I decided we come up to surprise him."

"You father's name?" the clerk asked, tapping at an ancient computer.

"Ralph Zeiderman," Sam replied and the man nodded, still tapping away.

"Right," he said after a moment. "He's in Room seven at the very end. If I see some ID I can even get you a key card into the room."

"That'd be great," Sam said with another fake smile, pulling out the correct identification. "And can we, by any chance, get a room near his in case he's running late."

"No problem," the man said after a cursory scan of Sam's ID. He scanned through three cards, one to room seven and two to room six right next to it, and bid them goodnight.

"So," Dean said when they were back outside. "Dad's room first or ours?" Sam suddenly looked uncertain, as if now that he had reached the point of knowing what had happened to Dad he wasn't so sure he wanted to know. He turned slightly toward Dean, almost like he used to when he was waiting for a decision. "Ours first," Dean said quickly, before Sam could change his mind and come up with something. "We'll get settled and then dig Dad out of the mess he probably made of his room." Sam managed a weak smile before following Dean to the Impala. They unpacked in silence, Sam taking the bed by the door before Dean can even ask about sleep arrangements. That sends a pang of guilt through his chest, aching like a poison dart. Before college he had always been the one protecting Sam. Now Sam seemed to think that Dean need protected.

It took a surprisingly short time to unload their things and then, all too soon, they were standing in front of room seven. Sam hesitated a moment and then stuck the keycard in, yanking it out and pulling open the door. They stepped inside and Dean felt like he'd stepped into the middle of a tornado. Papers had been taped to the wall or just left the fall to the floor amongst food wrappers, dirty clothes, and possibly the flash of a knife. Sam looked shell shocked for a moment, standing lost just inside the doorway. Dean took a couple steps further inside, glancing around at the papered walls, and realized that his father was still about as clear as Yoda even after four years. "Can you make any sense out of this Sammy?" he asked his brother.

"It's Sam," came the reply but this time it wasn't as insistent, probably because Sam was already moving from one article to the next, tracing underlined words and studying pictures. He moved from an article about a house fire to a car wreck and then to something about a closing veterinarian office. Dean softly shut the door and, after shoving wrappers and crumpled papers and clothing out of the way, sits on the bed as Sam deciphers. Four years ago it would have been him figuring out what John was hunting. Now he couldn't even make sense of John's notes. Guilt gnawed at his insides and he stood up abruptly, heading for the door.

"I'm going back to our room," he announced for Sam's benefit. "Let me know when you find something useful." Then he darted outside, only pausing once to look back through the door before he shut it. Sam was making his way along the wall as if he hadn't heard Dean at all.


	6. April 7, 2001

_Six_

It was fifteen minutes past midnight when Sam finally felt as if he understood what his father had been trying to do. Normally John Winchester was much more organized than this, a fact that puzzled his younger son. After close to four years, Sam new his father like he knew himself and he'd never seen John this unorganized. His father had been hunting a woman in white, that much had become obvious after four hours of sorting through two new wallpaper layers of articles in some places on the wall. The management wasn't going to be particularly pleased with John's effort. He hadn't just been after a woman in white though. Taped and stapled on top of the layer about the ghost was another more puzzle layer. Sam had spent the remainder of the time in John's room puzzling over lightning strikes, electrical fires, violent storms, and strange deaths. He couldn't find any binding factor between them or any sign of where John had gone but that, he suspected had been his father's point.

There were empty staple marks over top of the top layer, a sure sign that John had taken whatever he was working on with him. The realization that John had left Ashford without leaving a single sign to where he went was both frustrating and heartbreaking. He'd lost Jess to whatever had killed his mother and there was a nagging little worry in his chest that warned him that he might lose his father if John wasn't careful. Sam ran a tired hand through his hair and fumbled for his cell phone, glaring blearily at the glowing numbers. It was later than he would have liked to stay up and despite his exhaustion his mind was wide awake. He considered his options.

The thought of turning back to the hotel room to Dean, who split his time between trying to act as if nothing had changed and acting as if _he_ was the one who had been betrayed by those years apart, was unbearable. Wandering the chilly early spring streets wasn't a much better idea. He considered calling Jo and then discarded the idea. She should at least be asleep and if she wasn't he didn't want to get her in trouble with her mother by calling her. Actually _he_ didn't want to get in trouble with Ellen either. She was a scary woman.

The decision was made for him when his phone rang, showing Jo's number. "Evening princess," he said by way of answering the phone.

"Hello to you too Sam," Jo said, her voice as light and bright as always. Jess had glowed to Sam, soft and warm candlelight, but Jo blazed. If Jess was a gentle star then Jo was the sun, so bright that it hurt to look at her at times. She also wasn't as breakable as Jess. Jo was more than capable of taking care of herself and she had made that completely clear more than once to Sam. "What are you up to? And why are you even up at midnight?"

"Dad called Dean," Sam said, voice thick with betrayal and pain. "Dean said that Dad claimed I was in trouble. That whatever Dad was after was hunting me. We decided to go find Dad."

"But you haven't heard from him in months," Jo protested and Sam found himself nodding even though she couldn't see him.

"Yeah. Apparently Dad calls Bobby every time he switches towns. The last Bobby heard from him was in Ashford, Minnesota and we found his hotel room but he isn't here. He has articles pasted all over, and it was pretty obvious that he was hunting a woman in white in this town, but there are also all these really strange articles."

"Strange how?"

"Like there was a girl named Cindy struck and killed by lightning on a sunny day in California, a freak electrical fire in Missouri, a massive tornado in Maine which doesn't even get tornadoes, and a guy who died choking to death on water outside his office building in Ohio on a sunny day in the middle of the street and he didn't even have a water bottle with him."

"What in the world is your dad looking for?" Jo asked and Sam could almost see her nose wrinkling up the way it did when she was confused and trying to make sense of things. 

"I have no idea," Sam admitted with a sigh.

"Text me the article titles and newspapers they're from when we're done talking," Jo demanded. "I'll have Ash check them and see what he can find. After all, he owes me for taking his shift at the bar last week."

"Thanks Jo," Sam said and she laughed lightly.

"Anything for you darling," she cooed. "Now hang up, text me that information, and get some sleep. You're going to need it."

"Ok," Sam agreed. "I'll call you later Jo."

"You do that Sam Winchester or I'll have Mom track you down and nail your butt to the floor." Sam hung up laughing and gathered the correct articles, texting them to Jo as quickly as his sleep deprived fingers could manage. He fell asleep on his father's bed, out of energy before he could even consider trudging back to he and Dean's room. He woke up to someone pounding on the door. 

Sam moaned and rolled out of bed, fumbling for a weapon before realizing he was weaponless. That realization was enough to bring him fully awake. "Dammit Sammy, open the door," Dean's voice demanded and Sam froze. The pounding was hard enough to shake the entire door and it kick started his heart that had frozen from the moment he realized he didn't have a weapon.

"I'm coming," he croaked out, stumbling towards the door and shoving it open.

"What the hell man?" Dean demanded and Sam yawned widely, eyes sliding past his brother to study the empty parking lot before letting Dean in.

"Dad was hunting a woman in white," he told his long absent older brother, shutting the door and shuffling over to the bed and snatching up his phone to flip it open and read the text from Jo. There were only two words. _Call me_. Sam was dialing before he had even consciously thought about it. "Hey Jo-Jo, what do you have for me?" he asked the instant she answered.

"Believe it or not," Jo said, voice hushed as if she was whispering. "Ash says your dad is tracking a demon." Sam felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him and he dropped down heavily on the bed.

"Sam? _Sam_?" Dean and Jo were both asking, voices growing more frantic when he didn't reply immediately. 

Sam found himself lifting a hand to silence Dean and asking Jo, "Can you repeat that?"

"Ash says your dad is tracking a demon," Jo repeated.

"Can Ash find it?"

"Possibly. Give him time. Sam are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, well aware that his voice sounding blank and breathless. "I'll be fine. Thanks Jo."

"No problem," Jo replied although she didn't sound as happy as she normally did. "Call me later Sam."

"Ok."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Sam reassured her and hung up. He sat there for a moment staring at the wall covered with the results of his father's work.

"Sam?" Dean asked uncertainly. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah," Sam said, forcing his face blank as he glanced up at his older brother. "Everything's fine. Let's go check on this woman in white." Then he stood and brushed by his brother, heading out of the door and into fresh air. Once outside he tried to clear his head, waiting for Dean to catch up. He wasn't sure what upset him more; that his father was hunting a demon or that John hadn't told him. Either way it stung and Ash had better come up with where John had thought the demon was next because he and Sam really needed to talk.


End file.
